


she laughs in flowers

by lostariels



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Falling In Love, Flower thief Kara, Fluff, One Shot, Princess Lena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 23:14:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13728057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostariels/pseuds/lostariels
Summary: Only the person who makes the princess laugh can have her hand in marriage, and Lena’s determined not to laugh, no matter how hard Kara tries to make her.





	she laughs in flowers

**Author's Note:**

> based on the post by differentjasper over on tumblr

            Sitting in the throne room, a beautifully wrought golden tiara adorning her head, and a gown of emerald green draping her delicate frame, Lena stared at the line of suitors with a bored look on her face. She’d been here hundreds of times before, watching thousands of men and women be presented to her, giving her flowery compliments and lavish gifts, cracking lame jokes, and perhaps a few funny ones. They tried so hard to make them laugh - every single one of them - and Lena just sat on her small throne beside her mother, a morose look on her face, ignoring everyone as the lump came forward to present their case to the princess.

 

            There were short suitors, and tall ones, pale and dark, rotund ones and some that were so slender that she thought they would blow over if a stiff breeze struck them. Some were strikingly beautiful, and others less so, but more importantly, none of them made her laugh. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t have liked to laugh at some of the jokes and the antics, and the god awful compliments, but it was the fact that she couldn’t. Since the day she’d turned eighteen, she’d been pressured by her mother to find a good match, to the point where they’d argued for days, filling the palace with their angry shouts as Lena refused to get married, and Lillian insisted that she had to. Eventually, they’d reached a compromise, one that Lena was determined to win, and she’d become stony faced and serious since that day.

 

            Yet every week, her mother forced her to sit in the throne room, perching on the red velvet cushion on the golden gilt throne, while her mother watched her closely, waiting for the sound of her laughter to ring out. As the next man came forward, a dark haired man with beautiful brown eyes and a charming smile, Lena could barely register anything beside his handsomeness as her mother’s words echoed in her mind. _Whoever makes you laugh may have your hand in marriage._

 

            It had been seven years since Lena had last laughed at anything, and with each passing year, she forgot what it was like to be happy, too afraid of belonging to someone else to even consider cracking a smile at anything. Word had spread throughout the kingdom, of course, and beautiful princesses from exotic lands, young knights in polished armour, or dashing princes and bards with voices sweeter than the strawberry tarts Lena ate with her tea all came to seek her hand in marriage. There were songs spoken about the silent princess, and spiteful tales told by those who had failed, and everyone with a pride to stroke or an ego to bolster came to try and make her laugh. And each and every one of them failed, no matter how far they’d come from.

 

            Shifting slightly in her seat as she politely turned her attention back to the handsome man, Lena watched as he gave her a grim smile and a courteous bow, before he took his leave, a slightly defeated set to her shoulders. Lena almost wanted to call out and tell him not to take it personally - she’d never so much as smiled for anyone trying to coax one from her - but she just watched his orange cloak swish around his legs as he walked back down the length of the marble hall. He was the last of the day, and as Lillian rose to her feet, Lena climbed to hers, rolling her eyes at the quick wink her brother through her way, before they both fell into step behind their mother. Lena glided down the hall like she was floating, the skirts of her dress rippling with the small dainty steps, as her silk slippers sank into the cushioned red carpet rolled down the middle of the hall. She gave small nods to the few familiar faces she saw amongst the rich colours and finery of the assembled nobility, all of them bowing or curtsying as the royal family passed by.

 

            Her mother was swept off to handle some business with a foreign diplomat, and her brother went to show off his skills with his sword for all of the ladies at court, as well as his fellow knights, which gave Lena the opportunity to slip away to her favourite parlour on the ground floor of the palace. It was a warm day for early spring, and she was sitting on the low white stone bench, overlooking the gardens spread out before her, absentmindedly stroking the petals of a rose as she closed her eyes to the weak sunlight shining down on her.

 

            A loud laugh made her eyes fly open, shocking her by the light hearted joy of the sound, and Lena blinked a few times, looked around for the culprit. The gardens were empty, except for a young woman dressed in the livery of the palace kitchen staff, picking herself up off the neatly cut grass, rubbing her elbow as she stared up at a low hanging apple that had appeared early. Lena leant forward slightly, resting her elbows on the stone carved railing, her eyes trained on the girl as she watched her jump up and let out a triumphant shout, landing with the red fruit tightly clutched in her hand. It was the same servant that Lena had seen dozens of times before, always slipping through the gardens instead of working, stealing freshly bloomed flowers or plucking ripe blackberries from the row of hedges circling the large fountain in the middle. It wasn’t exactly a private garden, as per se, but no one except the royal family were permitted to cut flowers, and Lena found it oddly brave of the girl to steal bunches of them all the time.

 

            Still staring at the woman, Lena watched as she rubbed the apple on her apron, already holding the cuts of a few peonies, and took a bite out of the fruit. And then she was staring directly at Lena, her eyes wide and the colour indistinguishable from across the green. Lena saw the apple fall to the ground though, bouncing as it rolled a few paces away and settled down in the grass, quickly followed by the girl, who fell to her knees, her head bowed and shoulders hunched. Watching her with curiosity, Lena tilted her head to the side, and arched an eyebrow slightly.

 

            “If I wanted to report you to the castle guard, I would’ve done it a long time ago,” Lena called out, her voice softly carrying across the gardens. There was no one else about, so she wasn’t worried about someone catching her talking to the staff.

 

            “Highness,” the woman murmured, her voice full of panic as she kept her head down, “forgive me. I didn’t know-“

 

            “That it was a crime to steal fruit and flowers from the royal gardens?” Lena asked, a look of mirth in her green eyes, “or that I was watching?”

 

            The woman looked up, a sheepish look on her face as she shrugged, “that you were watching.”

 

            Lena nodded slowly, a thoughtful look on her face as she let her gaze wander, before she focused on the blonde haired woman again, and beckoned her closer. Blinking in surprise, the woman climbed to her feet, quickly crossing the distance between them, until she was standing a few metres away, and Lena was looking down at her from the balcony, watching the woman nervously wring the plain brown dress and the white apron in her hands.

 

            “And I take it you didn’t know I was watching when you stole some daffodils a week ago, or picked cherries last Monday?” Lena asked, watching the blonde woman blush as she squirmed beneath Lena’s intense stare. Her eyes were blue from this distance, Lena realised, like the water of the fountain on a clear day, or the colour of the light blue pansies that bloomed in the spring. “Tell me, why do you steal flowers? I mean, I can understand the food at least, but … so many flowers. What possible use could you have for them?”

 

            Clearing her throat as she shuffled from foot to foot, the girl grimaced, “they’re for my parents’ graves, Highness.”

 

            “Oh,” Lena murmured, her haughty taunting faltering slightly, “well, I’d be careful that no one else sees you next time, thief.”

 

            “Next time?” the woman asked, her cheeks slightly rosy from the embarrassment of being called a thief by the crown princess, but her eyes sparkling with mischief at Lena’s words.

 

            Shrugging, Lena turned away and swept back into the parlour, listening as the sound of laughter wafted after her. It was like a breath of summer, breathing life into a world that was still trying to shake off the remnants of winter, and Lena faltered slightly, leaving the doors open as she took a seat in a wingback chair and picked up a book.

 

            She was back the next week, seeking solitude after another argument with her mother - this time it was about her mother trying to reason with Lena to reconsider the handsome man from the week before - and Lena had stormed to her parlour, fighting back tears as she perched on the bench, her cheek resting on her arms folded on the railing, while she clutched an embroidered shawl around her shoulders. Never had she felt so miserable about this whole ordeal, and she knew her mother’s patience wore thinner and thinner with each rejection. The finest and richest people in the kingdom had begged for her hand, and her lips hadn’t so much as curled into the barest hint at a smile for them. Her life was one of solitude and loneliness, too afraid to have friends, lest she laugh around them and find herself in an unwanted predicament. She’d laugh when she found the right person, but until then, she wouldn’t risk it, and so, Lena was left to wallow in her misery, shivering on the balcony as she tried not to rub her red eyes.

 

            Watching the wind toss a leaf around, she didn’t see the blonde woman appear a few metres away, and her head shot up at the sharp whistle that split the silence. Craning her neck over the side of the railing, Lena scowled at the servant, knowing that her eyes were bloodshot and a mere servant had been the one to disturb her. “Didn’t I tell you not to be seen again?” Lena snapped.

 

            Looking taken aback by Lena’s hostility, the woman stumbled back a step, both hands carefully held out before her, closed around something held in her hands. “Forgive me, Lady, but I brought something to show you,” the woman called up, a hesitant smile on her hopeful face.

 

            Freezing slightly, Lena gave her hands a wary look, taking in the prison those slender fingers made, and gave the woman a begrudging look. “Well, alright then, but be quick. I’m in no mood for company.”

 

            “Okay,” the woman earnestly agreed, pausing slightly as she bit her lip, “if I may be so bold, Your Highness, perhaps you could close your eyes?” With a withering look and a small sigh, Lena closed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, her shawl still tightly wrapped around her as she impatiently waited for whatever it was the woman had to reveal to her. “Alright, you can open them now.”

 

            Her curiosity had gotten the better of her, which was why Lena opened her eyes and peered down at the woman’s outstretched hands, her eyes widening slightly at the little green blob nestled in the woman’s palm. “Is that a _frog?”_

 

            “Uh huh,” the serving girl beamed up at her, a gleam of pride in her eyes, “I caught it myself, down by the pond.”

 

            “Why on earth were you catching frogs? Shouldn’t you be working in the kitchens?” Lena asked, sternly raising her eyebrows.

 

            The woman let out a loud laugh, and the sound came as naturally as breathing, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners as she stared up at Lena. The suddenness of it had surprised the frog, and it leapt from her hands, escaping the hands that chased after it, and the woman pouted slightly at her lost treasure. “I was trying to cheer you up. You look quite sad today.”

 

            Blushing slightly at the fact that a servant was trying to improve her mood, Lena bristled slightly, hating the idea of needing anyone to make her happy, and turned around, walking back inside and leaving the door open again, despite the chill of the day. The sound of the girl’s voice gently trying to coax the frog back onto her hand drifted inside, and Lena found it hard to concentrate on her book at the sound of the friendly voice, soon followed by a triumphant shout, which Lena assumed meant she’d caught it.

 

            The girl was there more often after that, almost every day, whether it was at Lena’s periphery as she walked through the gardens, eating sour blueberries that hadn’t ripened yet, her lips stained purple as she pressed a finger against them and winked at Lena, or holding an armful of daisies as carefully as a newborn baby while dusk settled and she finished her shift in the kitchens. Lena tried her best to ignore her, seeing that golden hair everywhere she went, or hearing the laughter or cheerful singing wafting in through the door, which she refused to close no matter how cold it was. And then there were the days where Lena sat outside, watching as more flowers bloomed as spring was ushered in, and the servant came with an apron laden down with little flowers, painstakingly weaving and threading them together, complaining all the while, until she’d made a flower crown for the princess, or she cartwheeled up and down the garden, or acted out a play she’d seen on the streets of the city, making her voice change pitch as she moved through the characters and boldly put on a show for the young princess, whose face looked just a little less sad whenever she watched the woman perform. There was the day she’d wandered past, tossing a small pebble at the parlour window, much to Lena’s surprise, shocked that anyone would have the audacity to try and capture her attention, but she’d gone out onto the balcony all the same, watching as the servant held up a dandelion and called up to tell her to make a wish, before blowing on the weed and scattering the seeds into the wind. Lena didn’t even have the heart to be annoyed at the fact that more weeds would sprout wherever the seeds landed.

 

            Lena started frequenting her balcony even more, telling herself it was for the warm weather, until it became everyday, even when a rare shower was blown in with the white fluffy clouds and raindrops splattered onto the white stone, leaving grey dots on the stone and chilling the princess to the core. Still, she came out onto the balcony, and sure enough, the servant would be there, spinning in dizzying circles as rain soaked into her dress and plastered her hair to her face. All of it she did to try and cheer Lena up, and Lena wasn’t even sure if the servant had heard about about the marriage proposition, and knew her attempts were futile. All of her efforts were wasted on Lena, but still, she was always there with a quick joke or a freshly bloomed flower, slowly drifting closer and closer to the short wall beneath the balcony, until she could reach up on her tiptoes and hand Lena a handkerchief filled with lemon cakes that she’d stolen from the kitchens. There was something thrilling about eating the cakes the servant brought her, which hadn’t been tested for poison, but Lena ate them nonetheless because she trusted the girl, and it was nice to let go of the finery of expensive china plates and carefully poured tea, the embroidered napkins and the dainty bites she had to take.

 

            Still she never laughed, and on a particularly cold day, where fat drops of rain pelted the palace and their breath misted before them in white puffs, Lena miserably shivered on the balcony, a fur blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a steaming cup of blackberry tea clutched in her hands as her teeth chattered, and she cast a pitying look at the thief, who had a drenched cloak draped around her narrow shoulders, and was reciting a poem she’d learnt from a tavern she’d visited with her sister, trying to get the stuttering words out through her trembling lips.

 

            “It’s no use, you know,” Lena sighed, giving the woman a forlorn look, “you may as well give up now, before you catch pneumonia. You won’t make me laugh.”

 

            The woman laughed loudly, a gust of wind blowing her hood down to reveal blue eyes that glinted with a stubbornness that Lena suspected might rival her own. “I will! I’ll do it eventually, you’ll see!” the woman called back up.

 

            “What’s your name?” Lena asked, realising she’d only ever thought of her as the thief or servant.

 

            Beaming up at her, “Kara, Your Highness.”

 

            “Well, Kara, I’m sorry to say that I’ve had the best jesters in the land tell me jokes, and the best bards write funny songs for me, and the best theatre troupes perform comedies for me, and I have yet to laugh,” Lena dismissively told her, “you’re wasting your time.”

 

            “Well they didn’t find the right joke! I’ll find one better than theirs, and I’ll visit every tavern in the city if I need to, or I’ll venture across the seas to other lands and see what makes their princesses laugh, but don’t doubt that I’ll do it, Lady,” Kara threatened her.

 

            Lena didn’t laugh, she just let out a heavy sigh, giving Kara an exasperated look, but there … just at corners of Lena’s mouth, her lips twitched, as if they ached to quirk up into a quick smile. They didn’t though, but Lena couldn’t help but feel a flicker of amusement at the girl’s hopefulness, finding it almost endearing. _It’s sad that she thinks she can make me laugh_ , Lena would tell herself, knowing that it was futile, but unable to bring herself to truly stop the girl’s attempts. It would’ve been so easy, just a quick call to her guards, but Lena enjoyed the stolen moments with her thief.

 

            Still the girl tried, growing more and more brazen as she dared to climb the low wall of the balcony, wedding her feet in between the columns of the balcony as she clung to the railing by her fingertips, offering Lena, who lurked in the corners with a wary look on her face, jokes, as well as flowers that she stole for her parents’ graves. With a startling realisation, Lena realises how close the thief has come as spring gave way to summer, and a new wave of jokes and flowers came with it. She’d started a dozen feet away, and now Kara had become bold enough to perch on the railing like an overgrown bird, and Lena had drifted towards the railing, standing just a few feet away, close enough to see the small scar on Kara’s forehead. Even when Kara started telling the same old jokes for the fifth time, hoping they’d work this time, Lena couldn’t get her to give in, and Kara would just grin at her while Lena shook her head. There were other changes too, and Lena was more interactive with her jokes, responding to Kara’s gentle coaxing, and even smiling slightly on occasion, the hard lines of her face softening just enough to make her thief glow with pride. It was better than her looking sad, but still, it wasn’t a laugh.

 

            Then she turned to puns, bringing new ones every day to intercept her poems, songs and jokes, and Lena would just snort and shake her head dismissively with each worsening one, a crown of flowers perched on her dark head, as Kara deftly threaded the flowers together while they talked. Lena had long since tried getting her to do her job, and Kara was content to tell jokes all day long, bringing berries she’d collected along with a new story from the kitchens. The months slipped by in this fashion, with the sweltering heat of summer giving way the she howling winds of autumn, as leaves turned orange and the flowers began to wither and die. Still, Kara foraged for the ones clinging to life as the first frosts settled, bringing handfuls of violets and the pansies that looked like her eyes.

 

            “What do you call a thieving crocodile?” Kara asked one afternoon, an expectant look on her face as Lena shrugged, “a _crook_ odile.”

 

            Lena let out a groan at the terrible joke, shaking her head as she leant on the railing of the balcony, her dark hair tossed by the gentle wind. “That was a terrible joke, and you’re the only thief here. I’m surprised there’s any flowers left in the gardens at this rate,” Lena snarkily replied, but she still smiled too, her eyes crinkling just the slightest bit, and the curve of her lips more prominent than ever.

 

            With a triumphant look on her face, Kara smiled brightly at her, “well that may be so, but at least I finally got a real smile out of you. Now that’s an accomplishment.”

 

            Lena just shook her head, staring at the bold little flower thief who had the guts to perch on her railing and crack jokes for the pure pleasure of making Lena laugh, and with a start, she realised that they’d become friends. Perhaps not in the traditional sense of the word, but Kara’s like a breath of summer air, especially in the dreary cold of the early winter, and Lena finds it hard to feel the cold when her thief is with her, warming her up with the sound of her joyous laughter, more beautiful than the robins that chirp in the branches of the holly bushes below. She doesn’t want to make Lena laugh for any other reason than making her happy, and it lightens Lena’s heart to know that there’s one person who’s doing it for her, not for the deal that only the nobles and rich know about.

 

            “It’s an accomplishment that a thief like you has never been caught,” Lena reprimands her, reaching out for the finely embroidered handkerchief that Kara produces with some crafty slight of hand, that Lena knew for a fact had been in the pocket of the thick fur coat she’d been wearing.

 

            “Say, what do you call a princess who got caught up in conversation with a thief?” Kara asked, her eyebrows rising expectantly as she smiled, producing a peach coloured flower from inside her cloak and twirling it between her nimble fingers.

 

            Rolling her eyes, Lena sighed, her eyes focused on the flower, slightly intrigued by the fact that this joke was about them. “I don’t know. What?”

 

            With a quick laugh, Kara tickled Lena on the nose with the flower, “a pretty theft.”

 

            There was a slight pause as Lena stared at her, Kara’s words sinking in, and she found herself stunned by the compliment. She’d been called beautiful by her suitors hoping to win her hand, stunning by the common folk who’d never seen someone so effortlessly beautiful in her silk gowns, and wonderful by those who’d been lucky enough to have a real conversation with her. Never had she been called _pretty_ though. It was such a commonplace compliment, used to describe any ordinary woman, like the pretty blonde thief before her, not the crown princess who was draped in finery everyday and smelled like roses, with skin as pale and soft as fresh snow in January. Yet Lena couldn’t help but blush, feeling her cheeks warm as a loud laugh escaped from her.

 

            And then she realised what she’d done, freezing as she looked at the startled expression on Kara’s face, watching as she wide eyed look of surprise slowly changed to a delicate blush and a breathless smile, staring at Lena as if she’d never heard a sound like it in her whole life. “Oh,” Kara murmured, reaching out with the peach flower and daring to touch Lena’s hand for the first time as she pressed the flower into it.

 

            Lena was too shocked to even move, her eyes locked onto Kara’s gleaming blue ones as she reeled from the surprise of the fact that she’d laughed, for the first time in years. And she hadn’t been able to stop herself; she hadn’t meant to laugh, but it had been so surprising that it had just fallen, unbidden, from her lips, as if it was the most natural response in the world.

 

            And then the spell broke at the gasp behind Lena, and she whirled around to see a maid standing in the doorway of the balcony, wide eyed with her mouth open, staring at Kara, who was still perched on the railing, her fingers grazing Lena’s, and the linger lines of laughter on Lena’s face. She’d heard her laugh too, and had stumbled upon the princess and the thief still reeling from the surprise of the unabashed sound. Too stunned to even speak, Lena watched as the maid curtsied and left, returning minutes later with her mother, brother and half of the court, all of whom stared at Kara was shock, taking in the scruffy roughspun cloak of the palace staff, and the look of delight in the princesses soft green eyes.

 

            She’d half expected Lillian to object, knowing that this was less than the worst match her mother had been expecting, but her mother had just nodded and told them to plan a wedding. It had been so long since she’d seen her daughter smile, let alone laugh, and Lillian was too stunned to find that her stoic daughter had finally succumbed to a joke that she couldn’t help but agree to the wedding. Her daughter was happy, and after years of sadness, she couldn’t begrudge her that.

 

            They were married the following summer, when the flowers were in full bloom, and she filled the throne room with them for her pretty little thief, who laughed like warmest summer day when she saw the sheer number of them. It was a beautiful affair, with hundreds of people come to see the thief who stole the heart of the sad princess and painted her whole life in laughter and warmth. Everyone cried as they watched them wed, even the queen, and they all smiled when the princess let out a surprised laugh as thief produced a flower and tickled her on the end of her nose, the sound more beautiful than any song the court had heard before.

 

            Her smiles were still rare, and her laughs even rarer, but a well timed joke from the thief who’d not only made her laugh, but love, and a flower hastily pinched from the gardens, and the sound of her laughter wasn’t long to follow.


End file.
